


Pink

by covenofthearticulate



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dave doesn't die AU, Emotional Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Sex Toys, just two idiots in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:15:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26946568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/covenofthearticulate/pseuds/covenofthearticulate
Summary: “It’s...very pink.” Dave blinks at the device before him, careful to keep his face neutral, to shield the tidal wave of racing thoughts that immediately flood through his brain.“It is.” Klaus bites his lip, eyes fixed on his lover’s face, studying the familiar terrain as he curses the universe for not giving him the gift of mind-reading. “It vibrates too.”“That so?”“Mhm. Want a demonstration?”“God, yes.”
Relationships: Klaus Hargreeves/David "Dave" Katz
Comments: 16
Kudos: 150





	Pink

**Author's Note:**

> Hi folks! I wrote this in the span of 2 days with no editing so apologies for any typos or incoherent ramblings. This piece was partially inspired by the TUA October prompts by @totallyevan on tumblr (but really, we're all just looking for some vague excuse to write Klave smut aren't we?) Anyway, the prompt for October 13th was Mamie Pink, so that was the first spark that birthed this piece. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! And as always, comments are super helpful so if you have time to leave one I will love you forever.

“That’s why they call it _le petit mort._ ‘Cause it’s just a taste of death. It’s the only moment when your mind is completely blank.” Klaus muses as his finger traces lazy patterns across Dave’s chest. 

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense. The French _do_ have a lot of sex, I guess they know what they’re talking about.”

“I’m sure they do. Y’know, one time I had five orgasms in an hour. I thought I was braindead afterwards, honest to God.”

“Mmh, I’m not sure I believe you.”

“I’m fucking serious!” Klaus barks with laughter into the soft flesh of Dave’s neck, where he’s been putting quite a lot of diligent work into leaving a lovely purple hickey. 

“You are also a compulsive teller of tall-tales.” Dave snorts, hands threading through that lovely unkempt brown hair, smiling as he’s able to elicit another moan with the scraping of his nails against the other’s scalp. 

“You _love_ my tall tales.” Klaus pouts, poking an accusatory finger at the other’s chest to drive his point home. 

They’re huddled together on Klaus’ tragically small childhood bed, enjoying a cozy night in. A record spins in the corner of the room, filling the air with some low grunge-y Nirvana song— he’s been catching Dave up to speed on all the best modern music, starting with his favorite angsty teenage crush, Mr. Cobain. It also just so happens to be rather good music to makeout to (if Klaus can stop himself from mumbling along, that is), so they sit and chat and kiss and cuddle against one another, fulfilling Klaus’ teenage fantasy of inviting a boy into his room. It’s sickeningly domestic, but they’ve been through enough hell in the last few weeks to deserve a lifetime of lazy makeout session and silly bedroom concerts. 

Dave loves nights like these as well- he loves _every_ moment with Klaus, but especially the nights where he gets to completely immerse himself in Klaus’ world. It feels like a lifetime ago they were sitting in the dirt, back to back or perhaps side by side, each describing the home they’d left behind in a desperate attempt to distract them from the suffocating humidity, the stench of mud and sweat and bug repellent, the ever-looming shroud of death that threatened to snatch them away into the night without warning or consequence. He told Klaus all about his own room back home, about the coffee tin with his precious baseball card collection under his bed, the jar of rainy day savings that he’d been saving up to buy his mother a new oven, the bookshelf his brother made by hand, and the paintings his sisters had forcefully hung up on his walls (he’d insisted that he didn’t want any pansy paintings of flowers and landscapes, but they’d quickly become the highlights of his otherwise boring room). 

But being in Klaus’ room is like stepping into his mind. 

It’s chaotic and messy and colorful and every second he spends in here he can’t help but fall impossibly deeper in love with Klaus because everything is just...well, it’s just _so Klaus._ The mismatching patterns on his pillows and sheets, the assortment of ash trays and bongs and hookahs, the millions of teacups and mugs on every surface, hell, even the scattered piles of dirty clothes all seem to make his heart swell. 

“I dunno, babe. Sometimes I get the feeling you just open your mouth and let random strings of words fall out.” He smirks. “You’re not even a _stream_ of consciousness, you’re a goddamn _river_.”

And it’s true, really. Klaus has always said that the best thing about being raised as a superhero was that it made all the wild shit he’s done on drugs look tame in comparison. And with the amount of wild shit he’s done on drugs _in addition to_ the wild shit he did as a kid, virtually everything that comes out of Klaus’ mouth is a game of two truths and a lie. Of course, it doesn’t help that Dave was born and raised a whole six decades before Klaus was even brought into the world, and he’s only been in this splendidly realized future for a few months, so if Klaus told him that people lived on mars and traveled to work in jetpacks, he’d probably still believe him.

“Oh my GOD, Davey, you’ll believe that I can conjure the dead and travel through time but you won’t believe that I can have multiple orgasms?”

“ _Five in an hour is_ _impossible!_ ”

“It’s not!”

“Klaus, you’ve literally _fallen asleep_ while I was inside of you before, how am I supposed to believe you have the stamina for that? And doesn’t it, like, _hurt_ after a while? Isn’t it...too much?”

“Okay _first of all,_ that is not fair— I only fell asleep ‘cause I was already fucked up on ketamine. And second of all, I don’t even need to fuck _anybody_ to get what I need. I always used toys n’stuff. And third of all, that time with the _five in a row_ was definitely pushing it, I passed out right after. God, and my abs were sore for _days!_ But maybe you could be the first _real live person_ to gimme multiple orgasms. That’d be exciting, right?” 

He shifts a bit from his position latched to Dave’s side, instead opting to roll directly on top of him, trusting him with the full weight of his lanky limbs and skeletal torso. 

“And it doesn’t hurt, but I mean, yeah, it is _too much._ That’s what I _like_. It’s like the opposite of edging, come to think of it. I mean, you gotta edge yourself for a while, but then instead of putting all your eggs in one basket and coming just once, you just _keep going._ And when it’s over, it feels so nice, like you got the best damn massage in your life, all your muscles just _melt._ ”

“So, what, do I just keep fucking you after you…?”

“Oh no, you gotta work for it and practice at it. But I could teach you. Gotta really work that angle, y’know?”

Dave smirks and lets his hand sweep down the valley of Klaus’ back to give his ass a quick squeeze.

“I think I’m quite familiar with _that angle.”_

“Yeah, but it’s more of a slow buildup,” Klaus continues on, in his Serious Teacher Voice. “You keep a steady pace then get one really long string of a bunch of smaller orgasms. I’ll show you sometime, let’s add it to the list.”

He rolls away from his lover for just a moment to grab a sharpie from his bedside table before crawling across his bed until he’s sitting by Dave’s knees, scribbling at the list they’ve added to the wall, nearly camouflaged amongst the scrambled musings that have lived there for decades. 

“It’s getting to be a pretty long list now,” Dave observes, sitting up and leaning forward to press a sweet kiss to the back of Klaus’ head. 

But the second his lips pull away, Klaus is shifting, readjusting all his lanky limbs for just a moment as he turns back to look his lover in the eye. And it never fails to amaze Dave, the way this beautiful, crazy, delicate man can swing from bubbly and playful to deeply somber in less than a second. He’s like an emotional pinwheel, spinning and twirling with each change of the breeze. 

Those large glassy eyes break Dave’s heart each and every time they fall upon his unbelievably lucky face, and he’s quick to respond to the shift as he reaches his hand up to cup the side of Klaus’ face. 

“We don’t have to have a list.” Klaus mutters. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I don’t have to be your teacher. We don’t have to...we can just have, like, normal sex.”

“We _do_ have normal sex.”

“Not all the time.”

“Baby, I wanna have all kinds of sex with you.”

“Yeah, no, I know, it’s just...like, I don’t wanna be this crazy gay sex freak from the future, y’know?”

That gets a snort of laughter from Dave, who brushes his thumb over those familiar cheekbones (they’re starting to fill in now that Klaus is settling into his sobriety and not living like a goddamn skeleton anymore, and Dave has never been more proud). 

“I don’t think you’re a _crazy gay sex freak from the future_.”

“Daveyyyy.” He whines and shifts yet again, throwing one leg across his lover’s lap so he’s able to straddle him. Hands pressed flat against the other’s chest, Klaus lets out a small contemplative hum and leans in close, until their foreheads touch, until their breath mingles together, until he can feel Dave’s sweet, radiant soul right through his eyes. Suffice to say that articulation has never been Klaus’ strong suit. Words are fickle things, like glass knives— so easy to slice and wound with, but easier still to shatter. What utter bullshit, that his sister can wrap the world around her pinkie with just a few words, but he got stuck with the power of being followed around by rotten corpses.

“You’d tell me if you didn’t feel A-okay, right?” He breathes with that fragile vulnerability that’s reserved for only the most serious of occasions. “You’d tell me if you think it’s too weird or too forward or...or _too much?_ ”

“Klaus, honey. You won’t ever be too much.” He affirms his reply with a gentle kiss. “I just wanna make you feel good.”

“I wanna make you feel good too.” Klaus coos against his lover’s lips. 

“I know, honey.” He turns his head to press a kiss against the inside of Klaus’ wrist, gentle lips brushing over that Umbrella branding, showing perhaps the first ounce of kindness that this patch of skin has ever seen. “So...how the _hell_ did the infamous Klaus Hargreeves manage to have five orgasms in a row?”

The grin that spreads across Klaus’ face is all too excited, like a schoolboy getting to show off his rock collection at show and tell, only this is a _very different_ kind of show and tell, and David can’t take his eyes off of his lover for even a second as he slinks out of bed, flips his Nirvana record over to the B side, before skipping back over. Once the music is once again playing, he catches Dave’s lips in a sweet kiss before dropping to his knees and grabbing a small box from under the bed. 

“Really? Under the bed?” His mockingly judgmental tone matches the raised eyebrow. 

“Gimme a break, I was like _fifteen_ when I got most of this stuff.”

“How’d you get into those kinda shops at that age?”

“I knew a guy.” Klaus says with the same dismissive air that he has whenever he talks about this sort of stuff from his youth. Dave knows well enough by now that Klaus has known _plenty_ of guys over the years, and precious few of them had handled him with the care he deserved. Klaus doesn’t have to tell him, though, and Dave won’t ask. 

Instead, he only nods and watches with genuine curiosity as Klaus dumps his collection onto the bed— he’s got everything from hairbrushes and toothbrushes to all sorts of plugs and beads and things Dave can’t even imagine how to use. It’s not long before his body begins to betray him— blood rushing both up to his cheeks as well as down south in his pants as he imagines the sight of Klaus using each and every one of these items. 

“Like what you see?” Klaus is never one to miss an opportunity to tease him. 

“It’s uh— quite the collection.” Dave clears his throat, tearing his eyes away from the dragon’s hoard only to glance up to find Klaus, sitting criss crossed, holding a very bizarre looking item. 

“Eh, yeah, I don’t use ‘em all that often. Prefer the real thing, _if you know what I mean._ But I’ll try anything once! Anyway, _this_ is my golden ticket.”

He chucks the little vibrator across the bed. 

“It’s...very pink.” Dave blinks at the device before him, careful to keep his face neutral, to shield the tidal wave of racing thoughts that immediately flood through his brain. 

“It is.” Klaus bites his lip, eyes fixed on his lover’s face, studying the familiar terrain as he curses the universe for not giving him the gift of mind-reading.

“And it’s not shaped like a…?”

“Like a dick? Nah, that stuff’s amateur hour, this shape’s curved _just right_ so it hits your sweet spot.”

“Huh.” Dave huffs, as if learning a fascinating fact about a new species of plant, and not a sex toy from 50 years in the future. 

“We don’t...we don’t have to use it. Or I think I have one in black, too, if that—” 

“No, sorry, that was just...just an observation. Pink’s just grand, sweetheart.” In fact, he likes the pink very much. It’s playful and bright and so distinctly Klaus. It’s not so much the color that matters as much as the _shape._ It looks like nothing he’s ever seen— not that he’s _seen_ too much of this stuff before. Of course he always had some sort of idea of what people got up to (he’s not nearly as prude-ish as people make him out to be), but quite frankly, he never found anything wrong with just using his hand. He never found anything wrong with any of his tried and true methods, but perhaps that’s why he loves Klaus in the first place. Perhaps that’s why they balance each other out— Dave with his can’t-fail classics, and Klaus with his whirlwind experiments and exciting new techniques. The only way to find balance is to trust in one another, and if this strange pink device is good enough for Klaus, then he’s happy to go along for the ride. 

“Yeah?” Klaus looks up at him with those giant emerald puppy dog eyes (the eyes he claims to know nothing about, yet only ever tend to make an appearance when he’s desperately horny).

“Yeah.”

“It vibrates too.”

“That so?”

“Mhm. Want a demonstration?”

“ _God, yes._ ”

The grin that spreads across Klaus’ face is absolutely diabolical, but he wastes no time in swiping his entire collection right onto the floor to make way for his lanky limbs as he scrambles across the bed to tackle his lover. He lands right in Dave’s lap, curling his legs around his waist and slotting himself right between his knees as if he’s the last piece of the puzzle that is David Katz. 

He kisses Dave the way he always wants to kiss him— hard and deep, like a drowning man gasping for air. He kisses Dave with enough passion to make up for all those times he wanted to but couldn’t, all those hours he spent staring at those soft pink lips under flickering lantern light in that tropical jungle hell, dreaming and praying and begging the universe for a moment just like this. 

And Dave kisses him right back, gentle fingers tracing up his lover’s spine, counting each vertebrae, lovingly tracing the pouncing tiger that’s inked onto his shoulder blade, as if greeting an old friend. He kisses him until his lungs are on fire, until the world melts into a lazy speckled haze behind his eyelids, until he can feel the very pulse in Klaus’ lips as they tango back and forth. 

They only pull back when Klaus drags his lips down Dave’s jawline, inhaling his lover’s scent so deep it goes right through the bottom of his lungs into the pit of his very soul as he returns to the ever-growing hickey he’d left behind. He can’t help but smile against his skin when he hears Dave hiss and sigh as Klaus nips at the sensitive spot. It’s not long before he feels a familiar pair of strong bulky hands gripping his ass, squeezing and rolling and kneading hard enough to draw a string of mews from Klaus’ lips. 

“Goddamn, I love you,” Klaus laughs into Dave’s shoulder as he rolls his hips, grinding against the other’s thigh. He doesn’t know why he always laughs during sex— he supposes if he uses his sleuthing skills from all those years of court-mandated rehab therapy he could eventually come to the conclusion that laughter has become his body’s knee-jerk reaction whenever something gets too serious. 

But Klaus prefers to think that he laughs because it’s _fun,_ because sex can be serious, yes, but it can also be weird and cute and fun, and Klaus knows how to embrace a good time better than anyone else on this planet, so he laughs because he can’t think of any other way to express his excitement.

Dave turns his head and presses an abundance of small sweet kisses against the side of Klaus’ head, and when he reaches the shell of his ear, he whispers back: “I love you too, Klaus.”

“I’d love you more if you were naked,” Klaus hums, pawing at the hem of Dave’s shirt like a mischievous kitten.

“I bet you would.”

And Dave can hardly even get his shirt over his head before Klaus is on him once more, trailing down his neck and over his chest with sloppy kisses. He worships Dave’s collarbone then moves south to place a teasing kiss on one nipple, then moves yet again to greet his favorite freckle on the left side of Dave’s rib cage.

“Hello, Freddie, dear.” He whispers as he gives the spot a kiss.

“I thought that was Tommy.” Dave’s voice vibrates beneath Klaus’ lips as he tries and fails to hold back a chuckle.

“No, _that’s_ Tommy,” Klaus corrects, pointing to a different freckle on Dave’s hip. “But I guess I can say hello to him too, while I’m in the neighborhood.”

Dave bites back a smile as he stares down at Klaus, admiring the way his black curls seem to dance in the multi-colored fairy lights strung along the walls, the way his perfect pink lips purse and ghost over his skin, as if leaving a soft whispered confession to his bones. He is so goddamn _beautiful_ Dave can hardly stand it sometimes.

A shiver takes hold of his body for a moment as Klaus kisses and nips at the little freckles scattered across his skin, running his hands up and down the other’s sides. When he reaches the waistline of Dave’s jeans, however, Dave makes a small noise, lifts Klaus’ chin with one finger, stares at him with a raised brow. 

“Now, sweetheart, that’s hardly fair. You’ve still got way too many clothes on to be trudging ahead like that.”

At that, Klaus tosses him a little smirk, pressing one last kiss to his hipbone before sitting back up and settling himself in Dave’s lap once more. 

“Well, if you insist.” 

He lifts his arms up in the air like a child, waiting for Dave to do the honor.

“Oh, I do.”

But Dave takes his time, sneaking his hands beneath the flimsy tank top fabric only to run them up the long canvas of Klaus’ torso, tracing over the tattoo, up his ribcage, all the way up until he’s able to brush both thumbs over two pert nipples in just the way that makes Klaus gasp. He keeps one hand there, tracing dizzying circles, while the other sinks back down, teasing the waistline of Klaus’s pants (well, _pants_ is a strong word— on this lazy Tuesday night, Klaus is merely lounging in a pair of booty shorts, showing off his miles and miles of legs). 

Dave gives the elastic waistband a teasing snap, which elicits an excited squeal from Klaus as he wiggles his hips in anticipation. Then, finally coming around to the task at hand, Dave bunches up the flimsy tank top and tugs it over Klaus’ head. As soon as the fabric leaves his fingertips, it’s his turn to feast on the beautiful landscape of his lover’s body, lips hungrily kissing and nipping at every inch of exposed skin he can find. He shows no mercy as he teases that sensitive pulse point hidden under sensitive flesh right behind his jawbone. 

Honestly, it’s a goddamn miracle that Dave can’t hear the way Klaus’ heart pounds against his rib cage as if it’s trying to jump right out of him and find it’s twin flame in Dave’s chest. He can’t help it though— to be touched by Dave is to be touched by a holy thing. It’s exhilarating and sweet, but also terrifying and completely, totally _overwhelming._ Because the way Dave touches him makes him feel like he is wanted, and that is a dangerous thought. Because being wanted, being _worthy of love_ is not something Klaus knows how to be, but if he closes his eyes and drowns out the entire lifetime of experience telling him otherwise, every once in a blue moon he can pretend that he, too, is a holy thing. That he is deserving of soft touches and whispered promises and achingly sweet kisses.

Dave wants him. And he wants Dave. 

And so he gently places one hand on the back of Dave’s head, guiding him back up until he can meet his lips once more. The kiss manages to somehow be even more urgent than the last, and Klaus lets a small moan slip past his lips as Dave tugs impatiently at his shorts, working them off his long lanky legs before tossing them onto one of the many mountains of dirty clothes that cover the bedroom floor. 

Without any more pesky clothes in the way, he reaches down to cup the already half-hard erection waiting for him, earning a whine and a sigh from Klaus in response. His fingers work on muscle memory alone, stroking slowly at first, then stopping to rub teasing circles over the head as he leans in to steal a kiss. But just as he feels Klaus begin to twitch and harden in his hand—

“Wait a tick, wait a tick, slow your roll, cowboy!” 

Klaus pulls away, playfully smacking at Dave’s wrist with a tsk. 

“This lil’ fella needs to ride solo tonight if you wanna see a multi-orgasmal extravaganza. Gotta focus on the caboose instead.”

Dave removes his hand as he’s told, watching as Klaus crawls over top of him to rummage for the lube in his bedside drawer. By the time he returns, Dave is sitting back against the headboard of the bed, staring once again at the little pink plug with that Klaus hopes is a mixture of confusion and excitement. He always gets this look on his face when they try new things— the crease in how brow, the slight parting of his lips. Klaus has gotten quite good at reading him now, which is something he prides himself on. It’s like a spectrum, he’s learned— the deeper the brow crease, the more hesitant he is (Klaus swore he watched Dave conjure up a few new frown lines the first time he asked him to slap him). But the more his mouth hangs open, the more excited he is (he was drooling like a dog the first time Klaus broke out the lingerie). Tonight, he’s somewhere in the middle, and that’s just fine.

Flopping back into his lap, Klaus steals another kiss and lays his head on Dave’s shoulder for just a moment. 

“Think you can get me ready, sweetheart?”

Dave smiles, wrapping his arms around Klaus’ slender frame for a quick squeeze before pushing him forward so that he can get in a better position. Throwing himself over to the foot of the bed, Klaus snatches a stray pillow from the floor and tucks it beneath his chest before settling on all fours, ass high in the air. 

He’s already gasping and sighing as Dave puts two hands on either cheek, rubbing soft appreciating circles over the porcelain skin. He lets himself melt into the pillow, forcing a few deep breaths into his belly when he feels Dave begin to dig in, spread him apart, and—

“Oh!”

His voice leaps out a whole octave higher when he feels the warm wetness of Dave’s tongue against him. For a moment, he lifts his head, twisting awkwardly around just to catch a glimpse, and even the sight of the top of Dave’s head right over his ass is enough to elicit another breathy moan before he goes limp on the bed, fully surrendering to Dave’s tongue. 

It’s not something that Dave usually does— he’s still getting used to it, still finds it both odd and hot, though he’d thoroughly enjoyed being on the receiving end when Klaus had asked to give him a demonstration of this particular pleasure. But if Klaus wants to “focus on his caboose,” then god damn it, Dave is going to deliver. He sweeps his tongue across in broad motions at first, then kisses and nips around with flushed, swollen lips, before finally honing in on Klaus’ hole, pushing and nudging against it until he’s able to inch just a little bit inside. 

He only pulls back once he feels Klaus rocking back against him, whining for more. 

“Ready?” He asks as he squeezes the lube over his fingers, giving it a moment to warm up in his hand before gently smearing it over his lover. 

“I was born ready.” Klaus replies, and somehow his smirk is audible in his voice. 

So just like that, Dave pushes in with his middle finger, gentle and slow, until the rest of his knuckles press into the valley between his two cheeks. He can feel a shockwave ripple right through him as soon as Klaus squeezes around him, and Dave cannot for the life of him remember anything feeling more warm and tight and _perfect_. He only pulls out a third of the way before pushing back in and curling downward just enough to make Klaus moan and flex his legs against the sheets. He adds a second when Klaus asks for it, slow and steady as always, spare hand gently rubbing Klaus’ thigh as he watches his lover melt and blossom into each touch. 

“One more, or does this feel good?” He checks in eventually as he pulls out to add a bit more lube. 

“As if you don’t know the answer already,” Klaus scoffs, already wiggling his hips in anticipation. 

“Just wanted to ask.” Dave replies with a roll of his eyes as he rubs against his rim once more before gently pushing in with three fingers. 

“And that— _ah, Christ, yes_ — that is exactly why I want everything.”

He arches against Dave’s fingers, hands curling into the bedsheets as his body adjusts. On any other night he’d ask to come just like this— sure, there’s not much better than Dave actually fucking him, but the way Dave fingers him is absolutely _masterful._ The way he listens to Klaus’ body, digs in deep when he needs it, and pulls back to tease when he least expects it never fails to leave Klaus a panting, sobbing mess. 

“Have I ever told you how absolutely gorgeous you are like this?”

“You might’ve mentioned it in passing.” Klaus manages to squeeze in between a few moans.

“Well, you deserve to know. God, I could drink you in all night.”

“ _Fuck, baby..._ I’m gonna finish if you don’t ease up on me.” He halfheartedly mumbles into the sheets. 

And before the last syllable leaves his mouth, he can feel Dave’s beath on the back of his neck, sending a paralyzing shudder down his entire body. Then Dave’s lips are behind his ear, kissing and nipping and licking at the skin as he eases his fingers out, drawing out a long whiny moan as Klaus is left clenching around nothing. 

“Oh, fuck.” Klaus laughs once again as he lets his hips drop, lets his body sink into the bed for one blissful moment, enjoying the heavy calm before the storm. The room already feels hotter and damper than before, but there’s still static in his veins, and he can already tell he’s gonna have a hard time control this pent up energy once it starts to leak out.

“Okay, where’s the...the thing?”

“Uh, this thing?”

Klaus feels Dave’s weight shift in the bed, followed by the touch of smooth silicone against the _GOODBYE_ of his palm. Lips twitch into a small smile as his fingers instinctively curl around the object, already imagining the curl of it inside of him. 

“Ah yes. Hello, old friend.” He finally opens his eyes and rolls over on his side to face Dave. “You wanna do the honor or d’you wanna watch me?”

“You’re driving, boss. Whatever you want.” Dave replies, already adjusting the embarrassingly obvious bulge in his sweatpants. 

“Alright, I trust you. Shove that bad boy in, make sure this handle part thingy is pointed towards my dick, and then press this button once it’s as deep as it’ll go, ‘kay?”

Dave tries not to scoff at Klaus’ oh-so-casual choice of words, but he takes the toy back nonetheless and crawls back to his previous position between Klaus’ legs. He grabs the lube once more and squirts a dollop onto the pink silicone tip, smearing it around until the whole thing is covered and ready to go. Klaus drags himself back up, shoving his pillow beneath his hips to give him something to rest against, then spreads his legs as wide as they’ll go as he tries to quell the sinking feeling of anticipation by biting into the sheets. 

Dave rests the tip of it against Klaus’ rim at first, simply nuzzling it up against the sensitive muscle to let him get a feel for it. Then he slowly pushes in, watching with wide eyes and slacked jaw as Klaus’ body takes in the bulbous head and sucks in the rest of the curved body with ease. Klaus hums as he arches into it, already fluttering and squeezing around the toy as he presses his face further into the sheets. 

“Jesus, whoever made these things deserves a nobel prize.” He muses as Dave runs one hand back and forth at the base of his spine. 

“Ready for me to turn it on?” 

“Please, god, yes!

“Well, since you asked so nicely…” Dave leans down and presses a kiss to Klaus’ ass, then turns his attention back to the bright pink little handle pressing into his lover’s perineum. He presses the button, but quickly removes his hand when Klaus has an immediate reaction. 

Hips jerking and back arching, Klaus lets out a yelp, followed by a laugh, followed by a moan.

“Hoo boy! Forgot how much of a kick she has! Holy fuck, Davey.”

He comes back up on his hands, glancing over his shoulder at Dave, who is staring quite intently at the scene before him. 

“What does it feel like?” He asks eventually when Klaus catches his eye.

“Like someone’s tap dancing on my prostate.”

“And that’s...a good thing, I presume.”

“It’s _great._ It’s wunderbar, baby, magnifique!” 

He could easily ramble off a dozen other adjectives in a dozen other languages, but the tap dancer on his prostate is making it hard for him to even think straight in english, and so he turns around and crawls back toward his lover, pushing him back until he’s simply sitting with his hands by his side at the head of the bed. He gasps and squeals just a bit as the movement jostles the toy a bit inside of him, but once he has Dave where he wants him, he sinks back down on all fours and reaches behind him to make sure everything is in place. Then, muttering a small “C’mere, darlin’,” he finally tugs at the waistband of Dave’s sweatpants, letting his impressively erect cock spring out with a pop. 

“Klaus, I thought—”

“Bet you thought I forgot about you, huh?” He teases, already grabbing the base and moaning at the weight of him in his hand. 

“No, I just thought— _ah shit_ — what about you?” He braces himself as Klaus licks one long stripe from the base to the tip, looking much too smug and happy with himself

“What _about_ me, baby? This thing is already working it’s magic, I give it...seven minutes, eight tops, before the firework show begins. But until then, it’s a _hands-free_ experience.”

“Really?”

“Told you the future was awesome.”

“Well, still, if you wanted to just relax—”

“Dave.”

“Yeah?”

“Can I _please_ suck your dick?”

“...Uh huh.”

Klaus smiles like sunshine and if he weren’t actively kissing the tip of Dave’s dick, Dave would say he looked so _pure_ so radiant in the joy derived by such a filthy act. 

And truthfully, Klaus is all too happy to do it— he’s _always_ in the mood to suck Dave off, any time, any day, but _especially_ right now. Because as neat as these little toys are, Klaus can’t trust himself to simply _sit still_ and enjoy it. Without constant stimulation, Klaus is his own worst enemy— always either getting in his own head and thinking himself into a corner, or not thinking _at all_ and growing bored. Hell, he can’t even count all the times he stopped masturbating just because he got _distracted._ So Dave, as always, is a welcome focal point, and Klaus wastes no time in diving in with every ounce of enthusiasm.

Before Dave can even open his legs wide enough to fit Klaus between them, Klaus is sinking down on his cock, taking him all the way in with one swift motion as he hollows his cheek and clenches his throat. It’s utterly unfair, how good Klaus is at this sort of thing. How he makes it look so _easy._ Of course, Dave knows how Klaus has gained such expertise (Klaus doesn’t really talk about it, but Dave knows in the same way he knows about the umbrella on his wrist, because just about everyone knows, and because Klaus is Klaus, and if Dave tries hard enough, he can read the secrets etched into the inside of his heart, he can understand and appreciate and _love_ every single piece of him). 

“Oh, you’re gonna kill me, Klaus,” He sighs, threading a hand through that disheveled black hair as he massages his balls, tongue swirling around the sensitive head until Dave’s toes curl and the toned muscles of his thighs begin to tense beneach Klaus’ free hand. 

Klaus only hums in reply, taking a moment to glance up at him with dilated eyes under those long pretty black lashes. He continues to bob his head, setting a steady rhythm only encouraged by the way Dave’s fingers twist in his hair and scratch at his scalp. He can’t help but moan as he rocks his own hips back against the toy pressing in on him, letting the vibrations work at the tightly wound coil in the pit of his stomach. Every once and a while, he’ll get a shockwave, causing him to pull back and squeeze with every muscle in his lower half to stop himself from tipping over the edge— it’s a difficult process to get used to (especially for someone who _specializes_ in instant gratification), but the buildup is well worth it, he reminds himself. 

Eventually, when these little moments of bliss begin to occur closer and closer together, he releases Dave’s cock with a wet _pop,_ switching over to his hand instead as he lays his head against Dave’s thigh and simply looks up at him. 

He’s an absolute vision to behold, all swollen lips and saliva-soaked chin and glistening red-rimmed eyes with smudged black liner, and Dave cups his face like he’s the most precious thing in the world.

“I’m close, Davey.” He gives him a few quick strokes, but lets his hand drop after a moment, gripping Dave’s thigh as he suddenly becomes painfully aware of just how close he really is. 

His own cock is hard and throbbing— it has been for some while now— leaking a steady drip of pre-cum onto the sheets below as Klaus bucks his hips back and forth, trying desperately to gain some more friction. 

“I know.” Dave wipes away a bit of the drool accumulating at the corner of Klaus’ moth before gently pushing his thumb between the two glistening lips, pressing possessively against his tongue. “Let me see you come.”

He removes his finger as Klaus lets out a strangled sound to express his gratitude. His eyes roll back for a moment as he arches his back, then curves it downwards once more, pressing his stomach into the mattress as he thrusts his ass upwards. The lean muscles of his thighs begin to tremble as he jerks and pushes back against the vibrations. 

“Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck, I need to— can I come, please — can I — please please please _oh fuck, oh please please!_ ” He sobs into the sheets, head now tucked just under Dave’s knee as he writhes and thrusts. He knows Dave has already given him permission, but he _likes_ to beg. He likes the weight of the words in his mouth, likes the feeling of liberation he finds in the surrender. 

“Klaus, baby, look at me.”

It takes all of his effort to lift his head, but he does as he’s told, staring up with half-lidded eyes as he struggles to keep any sense of composure. 

“I want you to come now.”

And just like that, Klaus allows himself to fall into _le petit mort._ It starts with a deep shuddery inhale, the kind that makes his whole belly inflate. Then, with curled toes, he plants his heels against the mattress and arches until he’s nearly sure his spine will snap, until that wondrous silicone head is pressing right up against his sweet spot, until his whole body trembles with surge after surge of bliss. 

Dave wants to touch him, wants to pet his hair and guide him through this climax like he always does, but this is a whole different ball game, and even if Klaus _wasn’t_ shaking too hard to touch, it’s so rare for Dave to be able to watch such a beautiful, intimate experience from an objective point of view (well, perhaps not _entirely_ objective, but this whole thing is certainly different when he’s not buried deep inside of his lover). 

And Klaus is absolutely stunning like this. He has a bad habit, when they’re together, of covering his face and hiding those lovely eyes behind his arm. He knows he doesn’t necessarily do it on purpose, he knows how he can get overwhelmed and overzealous and start to float into his own world. But now that he _is_ in his own world, without Dave there to anchor him, the whole experience somehow feels so pure, so natural. 

This is Klaus in his natural habitat. Klaus, with eyes squeezed shut and mouth hung open. Klaus, setting his own pace, bucking his hips and curling his spine, as if he’s fucking a ghost. Klaus, flushed and sweating and moaning in that beautiful high register and babbling the endearingly incoherent nonsense Dave has ever heard (mostly a string of “oh fuck” and “oh my god” mixed with the occasional “nobel prize, I’m tellin’ ya,” and “Davey, holy shit!”). 

And perhaps it is utterly strange to watch his boyfriend go absolutely berserk over a tiny pink piece of plastic, perhaps he’s still finding it all hard to wrap his head around, perhaps the old fashioned part of him still wonders if this can really be better than human touch. But he 

The second orgasm arrives right on the heels of the first, giving Klaus precious little time to rest in between. He’s still trembling with the aftershocks from the first when the second wave pulls him back under, and he slams his head against the nearest pillow, howling in ecstasy. Again, he alternates between bending his belly toward the mattress, trying to press back against the vibrations inside him, and then curling upwards, eventually even extending his legs until he’s in the world’s most intense downward dog pose, trembling and whining as he clenches each and every little muscle. He holds this position for what seems like a lifetime (Dave will tell him later that it was probably only about six seconds), a series of strained whines pushing out from the back of his throat, before he falls with all the grace of a drunken giraffe, collapsing in a tired heap in between Dave’s legs. 

“You alright, darlin’?” He hears Dave’s voice from somewhere in the distant ether. 

“Hmm yeah, ‘course. Party’s just getting started!”

“That was...really hot.”

“Yeah?” Klaus finally opens his eyes and glances up at Dave as he rolls over onto his back, taking a moment to roll his neck and stretch out his muscles. He’s still sensitive as all hell, still finding it hard to get a deep breath with the relentless stimulation, but he smiles nonetheless and presses an awkward kiss to the inside of Dave’s calf. 

Dave smiles at that and gingerly swings his other leg over the side of Klaus’ head so that he can scoot down the bed and lay beside him, offering his arm as a pillow as he slots their naked bodies together. 

“You don’t have to actually get to five, y’know.” He reminds Klaus, pressing a soft kiss to his sweaty temple. 

“I know,” Klaus sighs, curling inward and tangling their legs together. He’s still trembling, and twitching, still dancing on that precipice, but Dave is a blessed anchor, and Klaus finally allows himself to take a breath when he feels that familiar hand rubbing up and down his back. 

“I want to, though.” He continues, turning more onto his side, shifting and wiggling and nuzzling until he’s right up against Dave. “It feels— _oh_ —it still feels so good.”

Lips curl into a smile as he finds the perfect spot, grinding his achingly hard cock against the side of Dave’s leg as he once again allows his body to open up to the vibrations. For a moment, Dave can’t tell if the thunderous heartbeat in his ear belongs to him or Klaus— all he knows is that there is nowhere else in the world he’d rather be than right here in bed, tangled up with Klaus. He loves being close like this, loves to feel the way each sinew moves and stretches and trembles as Klaus drives himself to the edge yet again. His lips never leave Klaus’ skin, trailing from his ear to his neck, then back up his jaw to the very top of his head. 

“There you go, Klaus, keep going, good boy.” He whispers into the damp, curly hair. “You’re doing so well.”

This time Klaus comes silently, one hand reaching up to grip the back of Dave’s neck, pulling him close for a kiss as he shutters and whines. He’s almost positive he can feel his soul pouring right out of his mouth and into Dave as the slow grind of his hips eventually comes to match the slide of their lips. 

“Oh my god,” he breathes as a spurt of pre-come leaks out, smearing over his cock and against Dave’s leg as he continues to rock back and forth. 

Dave is quick to scoop up the droplets with his free hand, rubbing his fingers together with the slick clear substance for a moment, before bringing his hand back to his own painfully neglected erection. Klaus sighs as he eventually lets himself come back down, hiding his face against Dave’s shoulder as he glances down and watches Dave work himself. If he were smarter and less foggy-headed, Klaus would have been taking very diligent notes on every stroke, paying close attention to the pace, the the grip strength, the way his rolls his wrist. But Klaus is three orgasms deep and too goddamn in love with Dave to do anything but sit and stare, hypnotized by the rhythmic motions. 

It’s only when Dave moans that Klaus is jolted from his reverie, and he reaches down to grab Dave’s wrist, stopping his ever-increasing pace. 

“ _Fuck me, Davey._ ”

Dave pulls back, looking at Klaus with furrowed brows. “What about your thing, wouldn’t that mess it up?”

Klaus shakes his head, a low whining sound curling up in the back of his throat. Dave feels Klaus shift against him once more and can see his hand moving somewhere in his periphery vision as he watches Klaus’ brows furrow, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he tenses a bit before completely melting into him with a whimper. He feels the soft thud of the pink silicone toy against the sheets as Klaus’ hand creeps back up his chest, only stopping once it reaches his beating heart. 

“I want you to fuck me, Dave. Please.” He repeats himself, softer this time, almost pleading, as he stares into those pretty hazel eyes. 

“How do you want it?” Dave smiles and presses a kiss to the tip of Klaus’ nose as he moves away to grab the lube, allowing Klaus to take a moment to get in position. 

He’s only gone a few moments, but by the time he turns around with a dollop of lube on his fingers, Klaus is already on his back, pillow tucked beneath his lower back, two fingers already shoved inside of him, hissing slightly as he scissors them apart to try and keep himself open. 

“God, aren’t you a vision.” He mutters as he settles himself between Klaus’ legs, readying himself with a generous amount of lube. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Klaus snaps back with a smile and a wink. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea, maybe I’ll break out the ol’ film roll next— _oh Jesus fucking Christ_.”

He gasps as Dave lines himself up, rubbing back and forth with his tip for just a moment before slowly sinking into him. They moan in unison, Klaus’ head thrown back as Dave’s head falls forward between his shoulders. He can recall Klaus ever being so goddamn tight before, and even as he sinks all the way in, Klaus is already gripping the bedsheets as his legs tremble and threaten to snap shut. 

“God, yes,” He squeaks, muddied tears making their way down his cheeks as Dave inches back out only to push in, somehow even deeper than before. As wonderful as it was to have a tapdancer on his prostate, nothing compares to the way Dave fills him up some completely, so perfectly, as if their bodies were custom made for one another. 

He’s already beginning to slip away, even as Dave starts with a glacial pace. He hooks his legs over Dave’s shoulders, but has a hard time keeping them there, as they tend to kick out, snap shut, or fly wide open every time Dave hits just the right angle (which is _every time,_ because Dave is nothing if not consistent, damn him). His hands have the same manic energy coursing through them as well, gripping the bedsheets at first, then his hair, then back to the bedsheets, then clawing at his stomach as he resists the urge to touch his dick. 

“Stay with me, baby.” Dave mutters, as if he himself isn’t overwhelmed with the raw heat blazing in the pit of his stomach, as if he doesn’t moan every time Klaus clenches around him, as if he’s not every bit as lost in the thick lusty haze as Klaus. 

“Oh my fucking god.” Klaus gasps, head lifting for a moment before slamming back down as Dave shifts his angle. “Just like that, please please, give it to me, _please please please don’t stop!_ ” 

“I got you, don’t worry.” Dave pants, placing one hand on Klaus’ hip to still his squirming. “Think you got one more in you?”

All Klaus can do is nod, desperately, violently almost, as he stares up with those big pleading eyes. Just like the first time, his fourth orgasm rolls right into the fifth, and he’s properly sobbing now, tears rolling into the sheets as he twists his head from side to side, unable to keep still. He swears if he keeps his eyes screwed shut for long enough he can feel each and every fried nerve, blasting all those blessed little signals to his oversensitive flesh, buzzing and humming with delight as he writhes and screams and laughs and cries. His hands are no longer gripping the sheets, but pounding into the mattress with each of Dave’s strokes. 

It’s one of the longest _petit morts_ he’s ever had, but the feeling of Dave driving against that swollen, sensitive spot inside of him is better than any high he’s ever had. And though it’s hard to stay in his overworked body and not just astral project right into the goddamn ceiling, Dave’s sturdy frame pressing into him is enough to keep him grounded. 

He only opens his eyes when he feels Dave’s hips begin to stutter, when his quiet panting breath turns into ragged moans, when he drags his lips along the inside of Klaus’ leg only to bite down as he finishes. Oh, he’s a beautiful thing like this, with his sandy blond curls falling into his face, red as a beet with that perfectly endearing little snarl on his face. 

“Fuck, I love you,” Klaus can’t help but breathe as they hold their position, breathing and pulsing together in one last moment of quiety bliss. 

Dave can only grunt in response as he slowly slides out, pausing every inch or so as Klaus winces and shudders with residual aftershocks. Though his own muscles are aching, he musters the energy to carefully set Klaus’ legs down on the bed and slides the pillow out from beneath his back, moving instead to gently tuck it beneath Klaus’ heavy head. 

“I love you too,” He eventually replies. 

Klaus smiles, and rubs his puffy red eyes, letting out another small raspy groan as he stretches and curls into Dave’s arms. 

“Scale of one to ten, how _braindead_ are you?” Dave asks, arms wrapping all around his lover and pulling him close. 

“Mmmh like a 6.5. Maybe 7.”

“That’s kinda high, sugar, you want some water?”

“If you even try to move away from me I swear to god I’ll scream.”

Dave gives one of those full-bodied chuckles and squeezes him tight for just a moment. 

“Thanks for the demonstration, by the way,” He eventually mutters. “You’re my favorite crazy gay sex freak from the future.”

“Pfft, I bet you say that to all the handsome fellas.”

“Who ever said you were handsome?”

“Hey!”

Dave smiles and hoists himself onto one elbow, cupping Klaus’ face with his free hand as he stares down at him. 

“Handsome is so pedestrian. I think you’re _stunning._ I think you’re beyond anything the English language is able to describe. I like being able to watch you, like tonight. We should...maybe do this more often.”

“Oh yeah?” Klaus cracks a lazy, lopsided smile, throwing one arm around Dave’s neck to pull him in for a sweet kiss. “Told ya so.”

“Yep, I suppose you did.”

“Broke my record, too.” He cuddles up even closer. “That was only...fourty-three minutes.”

“Y’know, most men brag about lasting _longer._ ”

“Lucky for you, I’m not most men.”

“No.” Dave lets out a breathy laugh, trailing a few lazy kisses over the top of Klaus’ head. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”


End file.
